Lullaby
by lovebugxstories
Summary: A series of murders, a mysterious killer - Special Agent Lopez and her team have to stop the psychopath before any more women have to die. But what does young Brittany have to do with all of this? A St. Berry & Brittana AU  warning: het!smut and violence


**A/N: Written for Scheibecat who wanted a smutty StBerry and Brittana FBI story. It didn't turn out the way I had planned but hey, the stories have their own minds.**

**Happy Birthday, Cat. Heart you to infinity and beyond!**

"Another one...?" Rachel asked as she approached Jesse, stepping beside him. Her expression was cold as she stared at the body that her partner was looking at, yet she felt her hands get a little sweaty.

"Another one..." Jesse echoed, removing his dark sunglasses to take a closer look at the woman on the floor. She was Asian, quite pretty too, wearing a rather short skirt, stockings with black and white stripes. Her throat was slit, her eyes opened, the blood forming a little puddle on the floor around her.

"This makes me sick. This bastard makes me sick" Santana Lopez added, putting on her white plastic gloves as she bent over the body to remove the iPod from the dead girl's ears.

"What is it this time?" Jesse queried, frowning. "Prince? Depeche Mode?"

Santana made a face as she looked at the display, realizing that the song was, as usual, still playing on repeat. "Eurythmics. Sweet Dreams Are made of These. Creepy but classic." She shuddered. "I hate this fucker, he's ruining all the decent 80's songs. How am I ever going to listen to this again after today?"

Rachel was eyeing the dead woman's ID, a sad expression on her face as she realized how young she had been.

"Tina Cohen-Chang, twenty-four" she stated, blowing some strands of brown hair away from her forehead.

Jesse was observing Rachel from the corner of his eye, not missing how her knuckles were turning white from grabbing the ID much harder than necessary. He laid a hand on his partner's back, stroking her slightly abover her dark grey blazer. Rachel was a great agent but it was still hard for her not to get too emotionally involved with the victims and the relatives. She wouldn't show it, she'd remain calm and professional, but Jesse knew how many times she had cried herself to sleep after work, how many times it had affected her to see little dead girls who had been raped, to see young women beaten to death by their husbands, to see bodies that could barely be identified as human anymore. The job was hard. It was hard for Jesse, it was hard for Santana, but it was especially hard for Rachel.

Rachel leaned herself against Jesse's chest, just a little, so that no one would notice. It wasn't like he was her boyfriend or anything, they were partners, co-workers, professionals. Still, since day one, since the day they had been introduced to each other, there had been this instant fascination. Trust even.

Sometimes Jesse would come over after work. Sometimes they'd have a bit of wine, sometimes a scotch, to clear their minds from work. Sometimes, after a few glasses, Jesse's hand would end up on Rachel's thigh and she'd let him. Sometime's he'd let the kiss on her cheek linger for a little too long when they told each other good night. Sometimes Rachel would end up in bed alone, her own hand between her thighs and the image of Jesse clearly on her mind. Only sometimes.

Tina Cohen-Chang was one of the many women who had been killed in the past months. The procedure was always the same. A young and pretty lady, a slit throat and an iPod in her ears with exactly one song on it, usually always an 80's classic. All of them had been prostitutes.

"Are you okay?" Jesse whispered into Rachel's ear and the woman nodded, trying to force a smile.

"Sure. I'm fine. I'm just... it's enough, Jesse. It's enough. How many more until we finally get him?"

Jesse sighed. "Can I come over tonight? After work?"

He didn't see the side glance that Santana was giving the two of them, rolling her eyes.

"Um... yeah. I guess" Rachel replied slowly and Jesse smiled.

It was a cold day, almost winter. Women had been dying since june. It had to stop. It really needed to stop.

xxxxxxxxxx

Santana Lopez made her way through the trailer park, not paying much attention to the yelling children, barking bull terriers or fighting couples. She was heading straight to one particular trailer, walking up the few steps to its entrance door, knocking forcefully.

"Special Agent Lopez, FBI, please open the door."

She could hear some noises from inside until the door swung open and a tall man in his late fourties was standing in front of her, his chest covered in tattoos, wearing only some boxers.

"What?" he groaned annoyed, eyeing the woman in front of her who gave him an unimpressed look. His breath smelled like alcohol.

"I'd like to talk to Miss Brittany Susan Pierce, please. I believe she lives here?"

"What do you want from her?" the man hissed at her, scratching the area between his legs which made Santana cringe a little.

"I have a few questions that I'd like to ask her. Privately."

In such moments Santana loved the feeling of her gun pressed against her leg.

The man turned around, opening the door a little wider. A little girl peeked out of the trailer and the man pushed her aside. "Go back inside, nothing to see here. Go!" he ordered, shoving the tiny blonde a little too hard for Santana's taste.

"Brittany!" he yelled. "Brittany! Move your lazy ass over here."

There was no response.

"Brittany!" he yelled again, angrier. "Stop polishing your nails or whatever unimportant shit you're doing!"

A few seconds later the young blonde woman appeared next to him in the entrance, her lower lip slightly bruised. She had dark circles under her eyes, looking tired and exhausted.

"The FBI wants to talk to you, what did you do again, huh?"

"I didn't do anything..." Brittany whispered, not looking at him.

She was pretty. Beautiful even. Her clothes were a little dirty and she wasn't wearing any make-up. Her hair looked messy, but her blue eyes - as tired as they looked - were fascinating.

"Santana Lopez" Santana introduced herself, reaching out her hand for the other woman to shake it. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, would you mind coming with me? Somewhere more quiet?"

Brittany looked at the man, then back at Santana, shaking her head.

"Sure, let me get my jacket."

xxxxxxxxx

They sat down in Santana's office at the FBI headquarters. Santana was pouring Brittany a cup of coffee, sitting down across from her. She was eyeing the woman closely, especially the bruises on her face.

"How did that happen?" she asked her, pointing at Brittany's lip.

"I slipped" Brittany replied, her gaze empty.

Santana nodded. Another abusive household.

Brittany grabbed the coffee with both hands, warming her hands at the hot porcellaine. She was looking around the office, obviously feeling umcomfortable.

"The reason I brought you here..." Santana started, hating this part of her job. "...I believe you know this woman?"

She shoved the picture of Tina over the glass table so Brittany could take a closer look at it. Brittany glanced at it and instantly teared up.

"She dead?" she asked in a tiny voice, grabbing her cup a little harder.

"Yes. Tina Cohen-Chang has been killed last night. We found your name in a little notebook in her bag."

Brittany nodded, wiping away a tear before it could run down her cheek.

"How?"

Santana swallowed. It wasn't like she ever felt sad or desperate when handling her cases, she mostly felt anger. It was this extreme anger that had made her such a good agent in the first place. She was angry for the victims, angry for those left behind, angry for everyone else who'd been affected. Whenever a criminal really pissed her off, Santana Lopez would make sure she'd get him, would make sure he'd pay for the things he'd done, even if it was the last thing she'd ever do. She didn't have any relatives, didn't have anyone waiting for her at home, she had nothing to lose but her pride.

"There has been a number of murders in the past months and we're quite sure that we're dealing with a serial killer. Her throat has been slit. There were no signs of rape though... I guess we can assume that it was, well... quick. Hopefully."

Brittany nodded again, looking defeated.

"So have you two been close?"

Brittany let out a deep breath.

"We were co-workers..."

The words made Santana listen up. Sure, Brittany Pierce did fit the profile, Santana knew she shouldn't be surprised to hear this, but something about her... something about the young blonde woman made Santana hope she hadn't worked in that area.

"I see. So... you're working as a prostitute?"

Brittany looked up at her, shaking her head slowly.

"I did. I quit."

Santana nodded, taking notes.

"Do you have any idea who could have done this? Were there any clients that seemed suspicious to you? Anyone who'd have a motive to go after all these women?"

Brittany looked down on the table, quiet.

"Miss Pierce?" Santana asked slowly. "If you know anything, please help us. Anything at all."

"I know nothing" Brittany finally said, looking up to Santana, her gaze strict.

"Miss Pierce, why are you living with your family, if I may ask?"

Brittany gave her a questioning look, frowning.

"I'm just asking because... how old are you?"

"Twenty-four" Brittany replied, toying with her sleeves.

"I just thought that... a woman like you might have searched for other options. You don't seem very happy living with your father..."

"I don't understand what this has to do with Tina's death..." Brittany interrupted the agent, her look challenging.

Santana swallowed. She couldn't get rid of the feeling that the woman was hiding something. Something that was not only related to her alcoholic father and the fact that he obviously beat her. Santana could usually trust her instincts and this woman was running from something, though she had no idea what it was.

"Well... if you change your mind... if you realize that you might have, um, _forgotten_ to tell me something..." Santana handed the woman her card with her personal phone number, "... then please give me a call, okay? Don't hesitate."

Brittany took the card and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. She was about to get up from her chair and leave the office when Santana grabbed her arm and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Brittany..." she said, using the woman's first name to create a more personal base between them. Maybe Brittany would realize that she could trust her. Maybe she could somehow feel it.

"... you don't have to be scared, okay? I know it must be a lot to take in, but please, call me, even if it's the middle of the night. We're here to help. You can trust us... or at least trust me."

Brittany's eyes looked so lost, her body so fragile. They were standing very close to each other and Santana felt the weird need to hug the other woman. She had a pretty good idea what this girl's life must have looked like and if she weren't a professional agent, she'd happily beat the guy up who had caused these bruises. The guy who was obviously not able to take care of his daughters, driving one of them into prostitution and doing god knows what to the smaller one. Life sucked for so many young women and she wished she could help. She wished she could do more than that.

"Thanks" was all Brittany had to offer before she left the office, not looking back.

Santana let herself sink down on her chair, staring at Tina's picture in front of her.

"Who are you..." she whispered to herself. "Who are you and where are you hiding..."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jesse stepped into Rachel's apartment and sat down on the couch, staring at the wall in front of him. Instead of a television or family pictures, there were pictures of the victims glued to his partner's wall. Pictures of the women with little post-its next to them. Post-its with their ages and with song names.

Sugar Motta, twenty-two, Cyndy Lauper – Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Lauren Zizes, twenty-three, Salt-N-Pepa – Push It

Sunshine Corazon, twenty-five, Bonnie Tyler – Total Eclipse of the Heart

Emma Pillsbury, thirty-one, Madonna – Like a Virgin

Rachel definitely took her work home with her.

He sighed when Rachel sat down next to him, handing him a glass of whiskey.

"Rach, don't you think... don't you think you should take your mind off this case for a little? At least when you're home?"

"I can't" Rachel replied, taking a sip from her own drink. "I can't Jesse, it's driving me nuts."

"What do you wanna do about it, Rachel?" he asked, shaking his head. "We can't do more than we are already doing. We can't do more than investigate and hope to finally find a better trail, we can't do more than -"

"There is something I can do" Rachel interrupted him, a serious expression on her face.

"And what's that?" he queried, eyeing her curiously.

"I can go undercover."

"Excuse me?" Jesse said, frowning and hoping that Rachel wasn't suggesting what he thought she was.

"I can go undercover, as a prostitute, and check out those people. Check out some clients. Get some more insight. Get to know the other girls..."

"Are you kidding me, Rachel?" Jesse burst out, looking almost angry. "No. I won't let you do this, it's too dangerous."

"It's part of the job, Jesse. You would do the same if you were in my position, I -"

"No, I wouldn't" Jesse interrupted her. "That's insane. And I don't think it will change anything, I don't think you should put yourself into so much danger, it makes much more sense to handle it from here, with me."

"Why are you so upset?" Rachel wanted to know, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm upset because I care, Rachel. I care about you and if you really insist that we go this way then... then we'll find someone else to do this."

Rachel had to smile.

"So it's okay to put someone else in that kind of danger but not me?"

Jesse remained quiet. The thought of someone else trying to touch her, trying to hurt her, it made him sick. As much as he had been trying to deny it, Rachel Berry had become much more than just a partner to him.

"I take that as a yes..." she said slowly, pouring down some more whiskey as she stared at the pictures of the dead girls in front of her.

She took off her dark blazer and opened the top button of her white blouse, finding a more comfortable position on the couch. Jesse was eyeing her closely.

Rachel was one of the best agents he ever had the pleasure to work with, especially because she cared. Because this wasn't just another job for her, it was her dedication. And she was gorgeous. Her perfect brown curls, her flawless skin, the way her body moved in those tight black pants, the expression on her face once they had caught a criminal, this superior and powerful look. Rachel Berry was everything he had ever looked for in a woman.

"We could get Santana to do it..." Jesse finally suggested and Rachel just frowned.

"Jesse, you know Santana's temper. I mean, she's good at her job but you know as well as I do that she has far less self-control than I have. The first guy to grope her ass and the whole cover blows up..."

"I think you should give her more credit..."

"I think you should be realistic and not base your opinions on your personal feelings..."

They looked at each other for a moment before Rachel broke the gaze.

"What's that supposed to mean...?" Jesse asked slowly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"You know what it's supposed to mean..."

It was like an unspoken deal when both of them put their glasses on the table. Like an unspoken deal when their lips touched. Jesse figured Rachel needed to forget for a while. He also figured, if she was really planning to do it, to go undercover, then he needed this to happen. He needed to make her feel how much he cared for her, needed her to feel how serious he was when he said he didn't want her to risk it. He needed her trust.

It was late, already past midnight and they both were exhausted, but Jesse couldn't care less. Rachel was the only good thing in his life, something worth getting up for in the early morning hours. So many nights he had dreamt of being close to her, so many evenings they had spent together and he had tried to make a move but didn't. Finally kissing her, finally tasting her lips, her tongue – it was long over due.

It surprised him when Rachel ended up on his lap, straddling him as they kissed. Her hands were quickly fumbling with his tie, tugging it loose as she let her tongue run along his lower lip, his jawline. Jesse moaned, pushing his hips a little upwards as his hands traveled around Rachel's body, a little lower, until he they ended up on her ass. He squeezed tightly, making Rachel whimper.

He had never expected his partner to take that much control and it was an undeniable turn-on. He felt himself grow hard, felt his pants tighten and Rachel's crotch slowly rubbing against him.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this..." he groaned against her mouth, his back pressed closely against the sofa behind him.

"This is a one time thing..." Rachel mumbled a little out of breath, nibbling at his lower lip. "A one time thing, okay?"

"Okay."

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, too impatient to really pay attention not to rip any of them off in the process. Her hands were cold when her fingertips ran along his toned chest, her fingernails scratching him a little. It sent shivers all over his body.

His mouth was on her neck, his hot breath against her skin, his hands pushing up her blouse to caress the skin of her lower back.

Rachel didn't seem to want to lose time, her hips already now moving in slow circles as her tight pants were rubbing against his erection. She broke the kiss to unbotton her own blouse, exposing a black silk bra that made Jesse catch his breath.

It was obvious that she needed it fast, as if she wanted to make sure that she wouldn't change her mind, but Jesse felt the need to take in the sight for a little while longer. The woman he had desired for so long, sitting on top of him, shirt hanging open, her lipstick smeared slightly around her pouty lips, her breasts so close to his face. Her expression was raw and passionate and it was the fucking most erotic thing Jesse had ever seen.

"You're so hot..." he told her and it made Rachel smirk. It was indeed exciting, sitting on top of her partner, someone she couldn't date but someone she really wanted to fuck. Right now. Half-dressed.

She started fumbling with Jesse's belt, unbuckling it quickly. She unzipped his pants in another fast movement and loved the guttural groan escaping her lover's lips as her right hand was cupping him above his boxers.

"Fuck..." Jesse mumbled. "Fuck, get that out of the way..." he added, obviously talking about Rachel's own pants.

Rachel moved off his lap to get rid of the annoying piece of clothing, throwing it behind her. Now she was standing there in front of him, wearing nothing but an opened white blouse, a black bra and a matching thong. Jesse felt a little like a teenage boy, so turned on by the image that he hoped he'd hold out long enough to make the night worth it for Rachel.

Then she was kneeling in front of him, slowly pulling his black pants down, taking the boxers with her in the process. Jesse didn't move, the pants hanging loosely around his ankles when Rachel moved on top of him again.

They kissed, passionately, and the living room started smelling like sex, mixing with the smell of whiskey that was still lingering in the air around them. A very pleasant mix.

Rachel had to smirk again as she nibbled on Jesse's lower lip and let her hand travel lower between them. Then, without further warning, her hand had closed around him. She began stroking him slowly, all the way up and down, and Jesse grabbed her hips harder, mumbling some incoherent phrases against Rachel's shoulder. Damn she was good at this.

His head hit the backrest of the sofa behind him, eyes pressed shut, as Rachel continued stroking his erection, her thumb occasionally encircling its head.

Then he felt her lead him against her and he opened his eyes, needing to watch. Rachel had pushed her thong a little bit aside, rubbing his length against her clit, her hips moving in the same rhythm as her hand. All coherent thoughts had long left Jesse's mind, there was no blood left to provide his brain as it had all decided to be needed in a different area of his body.

He could feel Rachel's wetness against him, could feel how ready she was, and her clit constantly rubbing against the top of his erection made it hard to wait only one second longer.

"Off!" he ordered, trying to push the tiny black thong down Rachel's hips and butt. She helped him, expertly stripping out of it so that, finally, no further barrier of clothes was left.

She looked him straight in the eyes for a moment, the raw expression in her eyes turning soft for a short moment as she ran the fingers of her right hand slowly through his curly hair. Then she kissed him once more, pressing her lips against him before slowly lowering herself on top of him - until he was right at her entrance.

The anticipation was unbearable for Jesse. He felt her wetness, the heat radiating from her body, felt his own throbbing erection and he couldn't wait to finally be fully surrounded by her. Then, slowly, her hips moved lower, taking him inside, inch by inch.

They were groaning in unison, their lips still connected as Rachel took him all the way in. They remained in this position for a moment, enjoying the feel of being so closely connected to each other, before Rachel started moving her hips.

She soon quickened her pace, taking him in deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips.

She grabbed the backrest of the couch on each side of Jesse's head to support herself, focussing only on riding him, only on the well controlled movements of her hips on top of him. Rachel was breathing heavily, letting her forehead rest against Jesse's.

She started riding him faster, her breasts bouncing in front of Jesse's face driving him insane. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, had to push the bra aside to knead them, to suck her nipples into his mouth, first the left, then the right one.

He felt himself getting closer, felt Rachel's breath turn shorter when suddenly his phone started ringing and vibrating in the pocket of his pants that were still draped around his feet.

At first he thought he could just pretend not to hear it but the sound became louder and louder, the vibration against his ankle disturbing him slightly.

"Ignore it" she told him. "Please, ignore it..." Rachel breathed out, apparently sensing his slight confusion.

Jesse nodded, not even able to protest as he kicked his pants away, somewhere under the table.

Rachel's moans became more high-pitched as she bit down hard on Jesse's neck, her hips moving frantically. She had to be close and Jesse made sure he kept hitting that one particular spot that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. She pressed her eyes shut, her fingernails digging into Jesse's shoulders, her face mirroring something like sweet agony. Then her lips were on his again, his tongue in her mouth, both of them out of breath.

"You've got to be kidding me" she groaned as she heard her own cell phone vibrate on the living room table.

"Don't you think we should - "

"No!" Rachel interrupted Jesse who most likely sounded like the annoying voice of reason in her head. A voice she didn't want to listen to right now. A voice she had decided to ignore a long time ago.

"Okay" Jesse panted, trying to keep up with Rachel's pace.

The phone kept ringing on the table, its constant vibration maneuvering it closer and closer to the edge of the table.

Just when Rachel's orgasm washed over her and Jesse could feel her inner muscles tighten around him, he himself was sent over the edge – just like Rachel's cell that landed on the floor with a loud thud, the sound only being drowned by both of their final moans.

Jesse could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he hugged the petite woman on top of him very closely, letting his head rest on her shoulder. He felt satisfied, yet somehow scared that this incident would only make his feelings towards Rachel grow stronger than they already were.

He was a grown man. An FBI agent. Still he was scared of being rejected. Of being rejected by _her_.

"Should we look who called...?" he asked carefully, his lips softly brushing against her neck as he spoke.

Rachel sighed.

"Yeah... yes. Sure."

She moved off of Jesse's lap, quickly buttoning up her blouse, putting her pants back on and trying to straighten her tousled hair as she made her way over to the phone which was still lying on the floor.

"Work?" Jesse asked, getting dressed himself.

"Work." Rachel nodded, quickly pressing a few buttons to call them back. They had to be on alert 24/7, especially when handling a case like this one. The fact that both Rachel and him hadn't picked up the phone, so Jesse figured, might make their boss suspicious.

"Uh huh... yeah. Yes sure. Yes we – err, _I'll _be right there. Thanks."

Jesse was readjusting his tie when Rachel put the phone back into her pocket, her gaze empty.

"... another girl? Now? In the middle of the night?"

Rachel nodded.

"Hurry up, time for us to get back to the real world."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Santana was massaging her temples as she stared at the body on the floor. Quinn Fabrey, twenty-four, killed in her own garden to the sound of 'Don't Stop Believing'. Damn, the woman was beautiful, one of the most beautiful girls Santana had ever laid eyes on, yet here she was, covered in blood, her mouth still hanging open from the last desperate cry she must have let out before her heart had stopped beating.

Who was this person though? She was living in the better area of town, she was working as a waitress in a local coffeeshop. There was no indication that Quinn, too, might have worked as a prostitute. What was up with that killer? Why would he now, all of a sudden, change the type of woman he usually hunted down?

Still lost in thoughts, Santana hadn't realized that Jesse and Rachel had finally arrived at the crime scene, both of them looking annoyed and exhausted. Then Santana's gaze ended up on Rachel's blouse which wasn't buttoned the way it should have been and the agent instantly knew what had been happening. Of course her colleagues were getting it on while she herself had gotten a major headache from all the thinking about the case and the potential killer. Santana had to roll her eyes.

Her colleagues started investigating the crime scene when Santana suddenly heard something like a muffled sob. She looked around confused, trying to make out where the noise had come from.

There. Again.

It was a female voice, a whimper, that seemed to come from behind one of the bushes in the garden. Santana stepped closer. Someone was catching their breath, gasping, and the young agent could make out the form of a woman who was quickly running – or rather stumbling - away.

"Hey. Wait. Freeze!" Santana yelled, running after the woman. She grabbed her gun, pointing it at the person in front of her. "Stand still or I'll have to shoot you!"

The person finally froze, raising her hands above her head before sinking down on her knees.

Santana only needed a few fast steps to reach her, realizing immediately who was sitting on the floor in front of her. It was Brittany Pierce, sobbing uncontrollably, tears wetting her dirty clothes.

"Miss Pierce, what are you doing here?" Santana asked, her gaze strict and fixed on the completely mixed up girl, trying to understand what this was all about.

Brittany didn't reply, she just sat there and kept sobbing, almost choking on her own tears. She looked entirely miserable and Santana once again felt the need to comfort her.

"Miss Pierce, you're aware that I just found you at the crime scene of a murder and that you will have to answer me..." She lowered her voice. "You better tell me what's going on before my colleagues get here, cause this is not exactly the greatest situation to be in."

"It's... it's..." Brittany stammered, staring at the dirt she was sitting in.

"It's what?" Santana asked friendly, sitting down next to the other woman to carefully pat her back. "You can tell me... Did you see anything?"

Brittany shook her head.

"She's dead..." she brought out, her voice much higher than usual.

"I know..." Santana nodded, her face serious. "Did you know her, Brittany?"

"Ughh... oh god..." Brittany choked. "She's... She was my best friend... She called me, asked me to come over, and I get here and she's dead..."

Santana frowned.

"Is she... uh.. Did she also work in the industry?"

"Oh my god, no... no... Quinn was not a hooker... she would never..."

"Then how did you know her?" Santana queried, taking Brittany's hand to reassure her.

"She was my best friend since high school... I don't know what to do without her..."

Santana let out a deep sigh, still stroking Brittany's back.

"Miss Pierce... can you think of any reason why this person would want to kill Quinn Fabrey? You know... at first we thought we had seen a pattern, thought he was only hurting prostitutes... but now... are you one hundred percent sure that Miss Fabrey did not work - "

"She didn't!" Brittany interrupted her vehemently. "She didn't..."

"Then help me..." Santana pleaded. "Help me if you know anything... I can't get rid of the feeling that you're not being entirely honest with me..."

Brittany seemed to think for a moment before her gaze froze. She looked as if she had remembered something important, something that worried her, her body becoming stiff.

"I need to go home."

"Miss Pierce, we're not done here. Miss Pierce!"

Brittany had gotten up from the floor, had shaken Santana's hand off of her before running again.

"Miss Pierce!" Santana yelled one last time. She knew it was her duty not to let Brittany get away. She knew she should have taken her with her to the headquarters again. Should have asked so many more questions. Yet Santana let her go.

There was something in Brittany's eyes, something in her terrified features that Santana couldn't quite grasp but something that worried her.

Santana returned to Quinn Fabrey's garden, looking at Jesse who was currently interrogating one of the neighbours. Rachel stepped beside her.

"Where have you been? I saw you leaving..."

Santana looked down on the floor, clearing her throat.

"I thought I had heard something... but it was just a cat."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Brittany was running as fast as her feet would carry her, tears still blurrying her vision. She felt her chest hurting, felt as if all air were vanishing from her lungs. Her best friend was dead. At first she had thought she was going crazy. At first she had thought that all of her closest friends at work being killed was just a coincidence. That it was not about her. That it was just some sicko killing all the women he had slept with. But now... now Brittany was sure that he wanted to get to her. He was going to kill all of her friends before he killed her.

In that moment on the floor next to Agent Lopez, Brittany had imagined what would happen if he got to her trailer one night and found her little sister sleeping peacefully in her bed. Would he also slid a little girl's throat? Would he go that far?

When she reached her trailer, she quickly pushed the door open, almost stumbling over her father who had fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway again. For once Brittany was thankful for his loud snoring – at least she knew he was still alive. She ran into her sister's bedroom, her heart skipping a beat when she found the bed empty.

"No... nononono..." she stammered, terrified. "No... Jules... Jules, where are you? Jules!" Brittany screamed, throwing the covers out of the bed, looking in the closet, under the bed, under the small desk.

"Jules!" she yelled once more, not able to hide the panic in her voice.

"Why are you yelling, Brit Brit?" the little girl standing in the door asked confused, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

"Fuck it, Jules!" Brittany exclaimed, dragging her sister in for a close hug, kissing her head multiple times. "Fuck it, where have you been?"

"You're not supposed to say the f-word, you always say daddy shouldn't use it in front of me..." the little girl in her oversized nightgown replied, her hair already tousled by her big sister's kisses. "I had to pee. Am I not allowed to pee at night?"

Brittany sighed, quickly drying her tears so Jules wouldn't start asking questions.

"Sure you're allowed... I was just... just worried, okay?"

Jules gave her an incredulous look but nodded slowly, climbing back onto her mattress.

"Do you wanna sleep in my bed, Brit Brit? You look scared..."

Brittany had to smile and nodded, crawling under the covers with her little sister as she protectively wrapped her arms around her.

"Let's just sleep. It's late."

Jules snuggled closer and Brittany could feel the little girl's heart beating loudly against her own chest. Quinn Fabrey was dead. Just as Tina and everybody else she had cared for. Brittany knew she would be next.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few days had passed since Quinn Fabrey got killed. Rachel was looking down on herself, straighteninng the far too short leather skirt and her red top. She was wearing far too much makeup and wearing far too high heels, but she figured she had to look convincing if she didn't want the killer to recognize her cover.

She was currently waiting at the sight of the road, freezing like shit, as she was smoking a cigarette. It made her cough uncontrollably and she quickly threw it away, looking around to make sure no one had seen her quite awkward attempt to get all the details right.

"Smoking kills..." a deep voice behind her said and Rachel turned around, prepared to look at the face of the potential killer.

"Jesse..." she breathed out. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she whispered. "Leave me alone and let me do my work."

He was wearing dark jeans and casual shoes, accompanied by a brown leather jacket. He looked extremely attractive, Rachel had to admit, but this was not the right time to drool over her co-worker, she had more important things to do. Crimes to solve. Girls to save.

"How much for the night?" he joked and Rachel slapped his arm, even though she had to hold back her own laughter.

"Seriously Rachel... I'm here with my own car... we can just sit in the car together and wait until we see anything suspicious... Totally undercover... totally safe."

Rachel had to roll her eyes at the fact that her partner didn't seem to ever give up. He had called her a hundred times already, repeatedly telling her that he didn't want her to do it, and now he was standing here, in front of her. In any other situation Rachel would have found it exaggerated and creepy, would have told him to stay out of her goddamn business, but the fact that it was Jesse, out of all people, made everything different.

"Jesse... I'll be fine... I - "

"No, you won't" he said again. "I've seen each and every one of those women. Each and everyone of them with that horrified expression frozen on their features for eternity. I will not let that happen to you. I will not allow the slightest chance that I might one night stare at your face, at your body on the ground in a puddle of blood. I will not let any crazy fucker put his creepy earphones into your ear and torture you with 80's classics. I will not."

They stared at each other for a moment before Rachel slowly nodded.

"I understand that you're worried, but - "

"I wanna be with you, Rachel."

Rachel's jaw dropped, not prepared for that kind of sudden revelation.

"I wanna be with you and I won't let this stupid case destroy the possibility of you wanting me back..." he cleared his throat. "Do you...? Want me back I mean?"

"Jesse, this is not the right place to discuss this, I mean - "

"It's a simple question, Rachel. We've been seeing each other for months, we've been enjoying every single moment together, even if we didnt touch, didn't kiss. And the other night was... it was amazing, Rach. And I'm sure not only for me... so please, Rachel. One simple answer."

Rachel's gaze dropped and she let out a deep sigh.

"Let's go to your car..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brittany's eyes opened. From one second to the next she was wide awake. It was only 11 p.m but she had tried to sleep early, had tried to get her mind off things as her father and her sister were visiting her grandma over the weekend. She would have gone with them, would have done anything to avoid being alone in that godforsaken trailer, but her father's mother had made herself very clear when she expressed her desire not to have a "fucking whore in her home who' s an embarassment for the whole family." Yeah. Embarassment for a family of unemployed alcoholics and drug addicts.

She wrapped the blanket closer around her body when she heard those noises again. She figured she was going insane, that it was probably nothing, but it sounded as if someone were standing right next to her window. Brittany couldn't see anything as the curtains were closed but she could hear a slightly scratching noise, as if someone were running their fingernails along the glass.

Her heart began beating faster, began pumping in her chest and she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her own fingers were grabbing the blanket harder as she pressed herself against the wall next to her bed. Images were flashing in her mind, images of Quinn, images of the blood, images of her face... of his face... Brittany still didn't know if it was really him, but she couldn't find any other explanation. Maybe she should have told Agent Lopez. Maybe she could have helped her. Why had she been so scared? Had she really thought she could handle this by herself? Had she really thought he would leave her and her family alone if she kept her mouth shut? How naive had she been?

There was the scratching noise again, and it sounded as if someone were whistling... Someone was definitely whisteling, behind the window right next to her face. She could open the curtains, she would look right at the person. She just needed to open the curtain...

Her hands were shaking and she didn't dare to move, didn't dare to breathe.

It was as if he were trying to tease her, as if he were trying to make fun of her, trying to terrorize her mind before he'd come inside and finish the job.

She was rocking back and forth on the mattress, hugging her own legs in front of her belly, listening to him whistling the song that sounded so familiar... still she couldn't quite make out what it was.

Shaking her head vehemently, Brittany finally grabbed her cellphone and frantically searched for Santana Lopez' card. Where was it? Where was the damn card? In her purse? No. Still that whisteling. Still that scratching. Where was the card? Jacket? No.

"Stop it. Just stop it you fucker..." she pleaded silently, jittery fingers still searching through all of her stuff. There. The jeans pocket.

She quickly typed in the number, relieved to hear the long 'toot' that would hopefully lead to Santana picking up. She was trying not to make any noise as she was crawling on the floor underneath the window, trying to move into the bathroom in order to get away from the whistling.

"Hello?" she finally heard Santana's voice at the other end, and Brittany couldn't do more than sob.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Silence and more occasional sobs.

"Miss Pierce? ... Brittany – is that you?"

"Yes..." Brittany replied in a tiny whisper.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I... I'm... please, I need your help, please" she cried, still trying not to talk too loudly.

"I'll be right there, where are you Brittany?"

"Home. I'm home. Please, hurry, please."

"Stay where you are, I'll be there as soon as I can, just stay calm, okay? It's gonna be all right."

"Please be careful, I think... it's... he is... he's gonna kill me. Please hurry."

"Of course, I'll bring help" Santana reassured her before the call disconnected.

Brittany tried to take a deep breath as she was hovering in the corner of the room under the sink, her back pressed against the cold wall behind her. She tried counting to ten, something she used to do as a kid whenever she was scared. Whenever she had heard her parents yell at each other in the living room, whenever she had had a terrible dream, whenever she had been afraid her father's raised hand might end up hitting her face – in all of these moments she had quietly focused on counting.

"One..." she whispered in a shaky voice, wincing at the sound of someone quietly knocking at the wall of the trailer.

"Two..." she continued, pressing her hands over her ears and closing her eyes to blend out the awful noises.

"Three..."

She had counted four or five times until she could hear footsteps. Then the footsteps came closer and she knew someone was inside. She prayed to God that it was her. Please let it be her.

Then the door to the bathroom swung open.

"Hey" he whispered, smiling at her. "There you are, darling. I missed you. Did you miss me, too?"

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Rachel was panting heavily, looking around in the car. She felt like Kate Winslet in Titanic as she realized the windows were entirely fogged-up. Well, a slutty version of Kate, judging by the fact that Jesse had her short leather skirt pushed up her legs, his hand disappearing in her red thong.

"Oh fuck, yes..." she moaned into his ear as he continued rubbing her clit with his thumb, two fingers pushed deeply inside of her.

"Mmmhh, Rach..." he murmured, nibbling at her earlobe. Rachel loved the feeling of his curly hair slightly tickling her face, loved that Jesse was so raw and passionate and yet so careful when he touched her.

Rachel had to grab the backrest of her seat harder, closing her eyes as he continued pleasuring her until – of course – her goddamn phone had to vibrate again.

"This has to be a fucking joke!" Jesse groaned as his hand stopped moving between Rachel's legs.

"It is a joke, Jesse. It is a goddamn joke, but it's our punishment for doing this" she replied out of breath, looking at him. "What are we even doing? Fucking in a car when we should make sure that we don't miss the killer. He could walk by right next to our car and we wouldn't even see him!". She stressed her point by wiping one finger along the foggy window.

Jesse sighed and finally removed his hand from Rachel's thong. "I know. You're right..."

"Give me my phone" she ordered, quickly taking it as Jesse handed it to her.

"Hello?"

"Rachel. Gosh, finally" yelled a voice through the speaker.

"What's wrong, Santana?" Rachel queried, trying to straighten her skirt and readjust her top.

"What? Oh my god. Yeah. Yeah okay. Yes, we'll be right there."

Jesse looked at Rachel, frowning. "What happened?"

"Start the car!" Rachel just ordered. She gave him a glare when Jesse tried to open his mouth. "Jesse, just shut up and drive, I'll tell you everything on the way."

Jesse nodded, quickly buckling up and starting the engine.

"And Jesse?" Rachel added, looking at him. "I hope you brought your gun."

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Brittany tried to get up, supporting herself against the sink as her hands were sweaty and her legs as shaky as if they were made of pudding. He was still smiling as he stepped a little closer. Brittany noticed the gloves on his hands.

"Finn..." she whispered, her voice bitter. "Are you gonna kill me too?"

"Oh sweetie" he told her, standing right in front of her now so that Brittany could feel his breath against her face. She stared at him, disgust mirroring in her eyes.

"First I'll have to make sure you're not gonna wake the neighbours..." he chuckled, suddenly grabbing the woman in front of her and pushing her against the wall, gagging her with a long white piece of fabric in his hand. "I always liked the fact that you were so loud, but right now this comes kinda unhandy..."

Brittany tried screaming, tried kicking him, tried pushing him away but the man was tall and strong, obviously amused by her failed attempt to defend herself.

"Babe, fighting will only make it worse. I always knew you were kind of stupid, but I honestly didn't expect you to be such a huge idiot... what a shame." He sighed, chaining her hands behind her back as he sat her down on the toilet of the small bathroom.

"Mmmmhhmmhhhm!"

"What honey? I'm sorry, I can't understand you... you have to speak a little more clearly."

Brittany felt like throwing up. She knew that not even counting would make her heart slow down anymore, she knew these were going to be her last moments on earth. The last moments of her miserable life. If only she weren't going to miss Jules so much... Poor Jules... Hopefully she'd make the best of her life. Maybe she'd see Quinn again. And Tina. And Sugar. And all the others. Maybe he'd make it quick.

She wondered if she should have stayed with him when he wanted her to. Maybe she should have dated him when he had asked her out. Maybe she should have agreed on taking their relationship a step further.

But no, Brittany had always known that Finn Hudson was weird. Something in her belly, some strong feeling in her gut had told her to stay away from him. Something had always creeped her out.

Then, when she had told him she had quit her job, the expression on his face... - it had terrified her. The hard slap in her face, the bruise on her lip. The blood that had been running down her chin.

Finn was slowly stroking her face now, the thumb in its leather glove softly brushing along her cheek.

"We could have had it all, baby. We could have been great together. And I know you loved me. I know you still do..." he sighed. "But you chose to take the rocky path. Chose to upset me. I don't like being upset, baby. I don't like it, okay?"

Brittany just stared at him, having trouble breathing, tears silently running down her face.

"I got a little carried away, you know? I got so angry at all the other whores. So angry at the fact that they are all screwing with poor guys' hearts. I imagined how many other men must have been screwed over so badly by these girls, how many of them must have felt as crushed inside as I have... It was revenge for all of us, okay? You know they deserved it... dirty little sluts."

Brittany had to shake her head, not believing the words she was hearing. Not believing that anyone could possibly be that insane.

"And then there was Quinn... Quinn was a fun choice to be honest. Quinn Fabrey, that bitch. I hated her. You know, that one night when I was waiting for you outside... when I wanted to fight for you, wanted to convince you to come back to me... I overheard you talking to her... your best friend. How cute..."

He let his hand run up Brittany's thigh who pressed her legs closely together.

"... and then the stupid cunt said all those things to you... planted so much stupid shit in your tiny little brain... told you to be careful, told you to stay away from me, told you I was a freak..."

His voice got louder and angrier and Brittany winced when he got a long knife out of his pocket.

"Bitch had to go..." he said, shrugging and smiling again.

Finn let his finger slowly run along the blade of the knife, staring at it in awe, as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"One clear cut..." he murmured and Brittany had to close her eyes.

"Anyways!" he suddenly exclaimed, shaking himself awake from his daydream. "For you I have a very nice song prepared..."

He reached for a small white iPod, quickly turning it on and plugging the earphones in.

"Ahhh, there it is... you will love it baby. It totally fits you. It's like it was written for you... You've always been such an amazing dancer..."

Brittany groaned, tried to break free from her chains, tried to scream, but Finn came closer, carefully sticking the earphones into Brittany's ears before he hit the play button. He smiled again when the music started playing. There it was. The song he had whistled. It made Brittany shake, made long and cold shivers run down her spine. So this would be the last song she was ever going to hear.

_Just a Steel-Town girl on a saturday night  
>Lookin for the fight of her life<br>In the real time world no one sees her at all  
>They all say she's crazy <em>

Yeah it was Saturday and no one was going to see her, not until she was already long gone. Brittany had to admit, 'She's a Maniac' was probably the most fitting 80's song he could have thought of.

She closed her eyes again for a moment, wondering how much it would hurt. Then she felt him coming closer. The music was so loud in her ears, it almost hurt, the fast beat in her ears and in her head.

_Lockin rythms to the beat of her heart  
>Changing moment into light<br>She has danced into the danger zone  
>When the dancer becomes the dance <em>

Then she winced, crying silently as she felt the sharp blade against her neck, cutting slowly into her throat. Not deep yet, only to give her a first taste of what was about to come. It hurt like hell, it burned, it made her see little black dots in front of her eyes.

_It can cut you like a knife  
>If the gift becomes the fire<br>All the while you're stuck between  
>What's will and what will be <em>

The music was so loud. The song scared her. The lyrics suddenly scared her. If she survived it, if by some miracle she survived this, she would never be able to listen to this song again without dying a little more inside, she knew this for sure.

_She's a maniac, maniac on the floor  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before<br>She's a maniac, maniac on the floor  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before <em>

If the police or the FBI could just hurry... if they could just hurry...

Maybe they hadn't taken her seriously. Maybe they had thought she was crazy. Maybe they'd never show up.

Brittany felt the warmth on her neck, felt the heat of her own thick blood running down her skin, onto her shirt. She wished she could shake the goddamn earphones out of her ears but she was afraid to move, was afraid that any kind of sudden action might upset him enough to push the knife in deeper. Oh god, maybe he should. Maybe he should just do it. How much longer was he going to make her suffer?

_On the ice-filled line of sanity  
>It's a place most never see<br>It's a hard-won place of mystery  
>You can touch it but can't hold it <em>

Maybe she could escape to that place of mystery. Maybe she could just close her eyes and try to travel somewhere else with her thoughts. To a happy place. She could try to imagine rainbows and baby ducks and unicorns... if only he weren't cutting in her skin, if only it didn't hurt so bad...

_There's a cold kenetic heat  
>Struggling, stretching for the beat<br>Never stopping  
>With her hair against the wind <em>

She was going to pass out. She could feel it. She felt her body turning hot, felt as if millions and millions of ants were running inside of her arms and legs. Maybe she'd just pass out and then she wouldn't be feeling it... Yeah, suddenly it felt almost peaceful... she'd fall asleep and 'She's a Maniac' would be her last lullaby...

_It can cut you like a knife  
>If the gift becomes the fire<br>All the while you're stuck between  
>What's will and what will be <em>

Then suddenly she saw something move. Her eyes were already heavy, her ears felt as if they were filled with cotton candy. The throbbing pain on her neck was extreme and she could feel her own pulse pumping, scared it might be pumping all of the blood out of her... but the door... the door flew open.

She tried hard to stay awake, tried hard to make out what was happening in front of her. There were people... and there was her... Agent Lopez... the beautiful agent she had called. She was here for her. She could see her move her mouth, could see her scream, but she didnt hear anything, everything she heard was music. This song. Forever on repeat.

_She's a maniac, maniac at your door  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before<br>She's a maniac, maniac at your door  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before <em>

She tried to look at Finn, she could see his face, could see his shock. Could see two or three other people, it was hard to count. Then Santana's and her eyes met. She was looking right at her, her eyes angrier than anything Brittany had ever seen before. Pure hatred on this pretty woman's face. Pure hatred for the man standing next to her. Yes, Santana was looking at her and Brittany tried to smile. She smiled because it was all she felt she could do in that moment. She felt as if she were on drugs, as if the earth beneath her feet were slowly disappearing.

_She's a maniac, maniac at your door  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before<br>She's a maniac, maniac at your door  
>And she's dancing like she never danced before <em>

Then Finn was saying something, raising the knife, moving towards her and then she heard a shot. Yes. Brittany heard a shot that was even louder than the insanely loud music in her ears. She felt weak, everything seemed to be going in slow-motion when she felt warm blood splash against her face. She felt like throwing up again, tried to keep her eyes open as she stared at Santana again, a gun in her hand that was smoldering at the front. Her features were cold as stone as she stared at the person she had just taken down.

Brittany moved her head to the side a little where she could see Finn and what was left of his head, saw the blood all over the bathroom wall, all over the floor, all over Finn, all over herself.

Everything was spinning.

_It can cut you like a knife  
>If the gift becomes the fire<br>All the while you're stuck between  
>What's will and what will be <em>

Then Agent Lopez was in front of her, removing her gag and her earphones in one quick movement, throwing them aside. Brittany had to smile again.

Santana's voice sounded as if she were millions of miles away, somewhere very far, but she was here, with her, and Brittany knew it was going to be okay.

"You're gonna be okay, you hear me?" she heard Santana say. "We'll take care of you._ I _will take care of you... the doctor's will be here soon, okay Brittany? They're here soon, hang in there... you made it. It's gonna be okay... it's over..."

Santana had a pretty voice, that was all Brittany could think before everything finally turned black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a freezing cold day, early February.

Santana was closing the top button of her long black coat with her left hand, her right hand being warmed by the woman walking next to her. She squeezed her hand a little tighter and Brittany looked at her, smiling a little sadly. She looked beautiful, her cheeks rosy, her eyes those of a woman who was falling in love. The cemetary was a sad place, but at least they were here together, at least she was here to support her.

The crunching sound of fresh snow underneath their boots was peaceful, just as the sound of the wind that was blowing slightly through the naked branches of the many trees surrounding them.

They stopped in front of a grave, both looking at its headstone.

_Quinn Fabrey, 1994 – 2018_

Brittany lit the red candle she had brought with her, putting it into the big lantern on the grave. For a moment they just stood there, watching the flickering red light illuminate the few winterflowers on the grave before Brittany turned to Santana, positioning a soft kiss on the other woman's lips. Santana wrapped her arms around her protectively and Brittany let herself go in her embrace, let her head rest on Santana's shoulder.

Despite everything that had happened, maybe everything would be fine.

Almost four months had passed and soon it would be spring. Brittany might never get rid of these images, might never stop feeling guilty for what had happened to all of these women, but at least Santana would be next to her. Would be next to her if dreams were shaking her awake, would be next to her when she was facing problems with her family, would be next to her whenever she were needed.

And maybe Santana would need Brittany too, whenever the memories of shooting another human being in the head came back in front of her inner eye and paralyzed her.

And maybe Rachel would need Jesse as well, because however often the young agent told herself that working for the FBI was her destiny, maybe someone would finally make her see that she needed to let go. That for some people, it was simply too much.

And maybe Jesse would need Rachel, too. Maybe just because he loved her. Cause sometimes these simple things were simply enough.

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The End.


End file.
